Mood: judgemental Currently, I'm in the mood to target chronic Myspace users. I exclude those who use Myspace to promote their bands, because I deem that excuseable. But for the rest of you--pitiful. Myspace is home for those with an ungodly amount of friends, and the need to flaunt such things is overwhelming, because I mean, we all need to feel validated by one means or another. I bet there are some people out there who measure their self-worth by the amount of comments they get per day. It must feel incredible, until you're alone in your room one day and realize that you're pathetic and empty. Then of course, there are those who have dorky friends who wear the monkey suits and close their eyes and pretend they're more popular and beautiful than they actually are. I can't begin to describe how impressed I tend to get with people who post pictures of themselves and their friends drinking at parties. Nothing says popular and cool quite like doing something most everyone else in the country is doing. Throwing it up for analyzation, what you basically have is; You, in a room full of people who couldn't give a shit less about you, while you sit (or stand, depending upon your persuasion) and laugh at jokes that you don't really think are funny enough to be laughed at--all while drinking a beverage thatvanyone else in the country (and multiple others) could be drinking. But don't forget to take pictures of it! We, as an internet community, don't know what we'd do without seeing you and your friends getting trashed. I found it highly amusing when I searched through old classmate's Myspace pages (everybody is guilty of this). The biggest kick I derived was seeing drama club/chorus kids posting pictures of their drinking parties. I had different and more hopeful aspirations for them, like maybe a bloody motorcycle accident or something along those lines. But it's also warming to know that they're playing make-believe and using their imaginations in ways to trump themselves up to be more than they actually are. I hope they go to sleep at night, in their cutesy little pajama pants and dream wonderful dreams of social success, and immediately upon waking, realize they're carbon copies of one another. Then, maybe they get up to check their cell phone for text messages, realize they have none, and die immediately of lonliness. They can have Myspace, and I can have my demented thoughts of their demise.
A place for the empty
6:44 p.m.//07.19.06
Sound: The Rentals -- Overlee
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